Team Outings
by 88silverkeys
Summary: Five different ways that five different NCIS employees discovered the relationship between Tony DiNozzo and Jethro Gibbs to be more than that of coworkers. Slash, obviously. Ratings from K-M.
1. Chapter 1

**I requested Elizabeth to give me 5 random words, from which I would construct 5 plots about how the members of NCIS discover the romantic relationship between DiNozzo and Gibbs. The first word was soup and I chose Ducky. Thanks to Elizabeth for the little words that helped me build a plot and thanks to anyone who reviews.**

soup

There were still about 10 minutes left in his lunch hour, and Ducky wanted nothing more than to enjoy it. It had been a rather stressful week, and this being Thursday gave him far too long until the weekend. The holiday season was always a stressful time for everyone—much as society liked to put a relaxed and cheerful spin on it—but Ducky still could not grow accustomed to the reaction to this stress. Judging by the body count in the freezer and the number of incoming corpses, it seemed a great number of people were so stressed they needed to kill their loved ones. Usually in rather grotesque and personal ways.

Shaking his head, Ducky turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car. He leaned back in, wincing at the strain to his back. Was really getting up there in years, he acknowledged belatedly. He pulled from the cup holder a Styrofoam cup with a very decent amount of insulation. The café that he so often frequented in town now sold something called 'Cup o' Soup'. It was just wonderful to have a rich soup at hand in the cold weather. Using the soup to warm his hands, Ducky made his way through the maze of cars.

He walked along the cars but paused when he noticed movement in one of the vehicles farther along the row. Now Ducky knew he wasn't a trained investigator, but he fancied himself observant at the very least. With surprise, Ducky noted that the car with the mysterious passengers belonged to Special Agent Gibbs. In fact, the person sitting in the driver's seat _was _Special Agent Gibbs. Presumably returning from his own lunch break.

Jethro was facing away from him, appeared to be leaning in towards whomever was sitting passenger—perhaps another one of the disastrous redheads, Ducky thought worriedly. They seldom worked well; Jethro needed someone who understood how passionate he was about work and someone who perhaps had the same passion for their own line of work. A person who knew that having someone like Jethro putting you second while he was out saving lives was worth it.

Jethro moved slightly and Ducky began to walk around so he was facing the front of the car, still at a distance of course. It was then Ducky got a good view of who was sitting in the passenger seat. As Jethro leaned back, the other occupant of the car leaned forward to take a more controlling role in what Ducky saw quite plainly to be a very passionate kiss.

Was he surprised that Anthony was kissing Jethro? At first glance, probably. Anthony had always proclaimed himself to have such a way with women and Jethro maintained a similar style in a much more subtle manner. But the two of them seemed to work. Anthony always had needed attention and support—guidance from an authority, especially in romantic relationships where the intimacy made his confident façade crumble. And Jethro needed someone to make him laugh, someone to help pull him out of his own mind.

Ducky felt his heart warm just like the little cup of soup in his hands as he saw Jethro's face. Anthony had one hand cupping his boss's neck with his thumb stroking the skin. He was obviously talking rather quickly in between little kisses. But Jethro…he was responding with such a smile; and it might have been a small smile, true, but it was a start. It was an excellent start.

**Interested in reading the next 4? Let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

handmade

Ziva marches towards Gibbs's front door, quietly easing it open, and places herself at the top of the basement stairs in seconds—all in complete silence. Was it necessary to be this stealthy all the time? Probably not. Was it excellent practice and just fun to make her American coworkers nervous? Oh, yes.

Ziva is making weapons for plane travel because although LEOs could carry guns onto a flight with proper clearance, Ziva wants fewer strings attached. Making a ceramic knife, or say, a wooden dagger to hide on your person offers the opportunity to be armed even as a civilian on a flight. Handmade weapons are the best, most reliable, anyway.

This is why Ziva needs to borrow some of Gibbs's tools, and perhaps the right type of wood—and fine, she needs his expertise on the subject. Ziva isn't too proud that she couldn't see when someone excelled at something—she just usually didn't verbally acknowledge it.

Standing at the steps however, Ziva could clearly make out that she was about to interrupt a conversation. She caught the tail end of a sentence.

"…let me do this? It isn't a big deal." Tony, she thinks. Rather frustrated Tony, too.

"It's weird, DiNozzo. Really fucking weird, I just want to know why you keep doing it." Gibbs, equally exasperated. So much so that he cursed in a way Ziva hadn't heard before.

"You know why." Tony speaks quietly, sounding embarrassed if Ziva could analyze correctly (and she could).

"No! I damn well don't. Why do you keep telling every person who waits on us at every restaurant, every hotel clerk, every person who we interact with that I'm your father?"

"Because…I can't exactly say 'boss' in some of those situations, you know. How many bosses take their employees out to fancy restaurants or weekend getaways, right?"

"But why do you need to say anything at all?!? People don't care, people aren't interested, and it isn't people's business."

"I…I just don't want someone getting the wrong idea, Gibbs." Ziva thinks he sounds embarrassed again. Nervous, too.

"The wrong idea?" Gibbs sounds deadly.

"…that you know, we're…Gibbs, come on—don't make me say it."

Ziva hears a scraping on the floor and the unmistakable sound of a human body slammed into a wall. Tony's gasping makes clear who was against the wall.

"Say it." Gibbs is growling.

"Gibbs…jeez, look I'm fine with all of this—this relationship, but I don't like people knowing about…"

"About what? Dating a guy? An _older_ guy?" Ziva struggles to process that comment as truth…

"No, the age doesn't matter; I wish you'd drop that. Just…I hate holding up this big sign that we're faggots, alright?"

Ziva knew the word obviously, it was crucial to understand offensive epithets of all languages in the event you were called one or needed to call someone else one. Ziva also knows Tony's use of the word wasn't at all justified.

"Get out."

"Gibbs…"

"No, you want to be secretive and ashamed and you want to lie about it? I don't. So get your shit together and come back then."

"But…you know how bad it is, right? Like how many people wouldn't think twice at rolling their eyes or keying your car or doing anything awful to you just because you're gay. Beating you up, I mean, come on Gibbs…I don't want to deal with that again!"

"Again?...Tony?"

"You know I hate playing the 'abused child' card, but that really makes me paranoid, you know? All my friends, dad and his friends, just…I want to avoid that déjà vu_and_ stay with you. Couldn't we please…just try that?"

"Yeah."

"Wait—what?"

"I said, 'sure', DiNozzo—get your hearing checked." Ziva can hear the smirk.

"But, you were kicking me out a minute ago."

"Now I'm not."

"But, I'm still…I still want to tell people it's a father/son thing when we do stuff."

"Yeah, but you've explained your reasoning and background like an adult so I'm accepting it—like an adult." Ziva thinks she hears a kiss. Between her boss and her coworker…both male…

"Really…that works?"

"Yes, DiNozzo. Maturity can get you everywhere."

"Even out of the basement…to say, the bedroom?"

"Shouldn't you get out of the closet before getting out of the basement?"

"Okay, I'm trying to subtly move this little grab-fest into the bedroom and you're cracking jokes about my insecurities. Nice, way to kill the libido, boss…Boss!" A rustle of hand on fabric, if Ziva hears it right.

"Nope, the libido is still going strong."

"Yes, are you going to do something about it?"

"Are you going to calm down about our cover as father/son?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning don't offer that information to hotel staff _anywhere_ because last time I got some very concerned looks from the concierge when we left the next morning. Very accusatory looks. You were any younger and they'd have called Child Services."

"Oh…didn't see that."

"Trained investigator, my ass."

"Look at you: moving your hands all over me, mentioning your ass—such a tease."

"It isn't teasing if there's follow-thru."

Ziva hears several groans and quickly concludes that the move to the bedroom isn't happening, but that didn't matter—she isn't going to be sticking around. For one, Gibbs will kill her when he finds out and there was no doubt he'd know. For two, she needs time to reevaluate how a semi-decent agent like Tony tricked her into believing he lived the way he said, because she really has believed him. For three, Ziva doesn't want to upset Tony by letting him know she knows—that would make him unhappy and paranoid. Ziva rapidly concludes that Tony didn't deserve to be unhappy or paranoid, he needs a 'special someone', if she's gotten the phrasing right. Tony deserves someone, and Ziva is shocked, curious, craving details, and letting her mind run wild on the visuals—but she isn't going to do anything to get in the way. As she makes her way back to the car, Ziva decides that, for the first time, weaponry can wait.


	3. Chapter 3

Challenge word 3: lock picking

Finally. Tim finally was getting the chance for revenge. Revenge against Tony and every stupid time he'd decided that Tim's privacy didn't matter.

Ziva had been helping Tim with a few techniques and now he was fully capable of picking a lock with almost anything. Granted, he'd rather have his little lockpicking kit, but now Tim certainly didn't need it.

To celebrate this helpful addition to his qualifications for law enforcement, Tim was going to break into a coworker's home. Sure, it sounded bad, but considering the number of times Tony barged into his apartment or read his emails or just called him 'McSomethingImmature', Tony definitely had it coming.

Besides, Tim reasoned as he pulled up outside Tony's building, it would be good practice to see if he could pick the lock quickly and quietly. That was assuming, of course, that Tony would be inside to hear the noise. It was Saturday night and Tim assumed Tony would be out on the town with some ridiculously young woman on his arm—probably still an undergraduate. There was playboy, and then there was bordering on illegal. Tony fit into that latter grouping.

Tim made his way up the stairs and paused outside the door, collecting himself. He'd just move some stuff around, freak Tony out. Nothing major, but if Tony was a good enough detective like he bragged, he'd notice things were different. And if Tim happened to see anything incriminating or embarrassing, well then, that was just a nice little coincidence.

Quickly getting down to one knee, McGee reached into his wallet and grabbed the little paperclip he'd shoved in there. He bent in and twisted it into the door's keyhole. In an amount of time that would make Ziva proud, Tim felt the lock give a small 'click' and he twisted the door handle and pushed his way in.

Tim expected to see the sofa. Tim expected to see the flat screen TV monopolize almost the entire south wall of the living room.

Tim did not expect, but wasn't too surprised, to see Tony home on a Saturday night. Hell, Tim did not expect, but wasn't even too surprised, to see Tony leaning up against the wall with his pants around his ankles about to come from a blowjob.

But Tim had no mental preparation for what came into his line of vision as his eyes trailed down from their connection with Tony's shocked eyes to his hands gripping the head of a silver-haired man. On his knees. With Tony's penis deep in his mouth.

Tim, still hanging onto the doorknob, pulled it towards him and slammed it shut. He began to quickly walk away from the apartment. _Towards the stairs, towards the fresh air, need to breathe, need to breathe…_He just saw Tony's boss—his own boss—the boss of all bosses—on his knees deep throating another guy.

Way too many questions, way too many concerns, and way too many images Tim needed out of his head now.

"McGee! Hey, Probie, stop. I know its you, you idiotic McBurglar." Almost down the finals set of steps, Tim reluctantly stopped and turned to see Tony hurrying to catch up. The senior field agent's face was red, although whether that was from running, embarrassment, or his previous activities, Tim didn't want to know. The jeans Tony was wearing didn't exactly hide the fact he hadn't finished and Tim struggled to find somewhere to look that didn't make him queasy, embarrassed, nervous.

"Look, Tony, uh…I'm really sorry. Just, you know, practicing lockpicking with Ziva and—"

"Ziva's here too?!" Tony looked panicked.

"No, I was just practicing by myself tonight…"

"On my door."

"Well, you've done worse to me!" Tim said rather petulantly.

"Yeah, well, this'll teach you top stop and think, won't it, Timmyboy?"

"Tony…" Tim sighed, how could Tony be joking? But glancing up at Tony he quickly realized he'd switched approaches.

"Look, Tim, just…don't say anything. Please? Really, this is really important…just don't let anyone know…"

"Tony, I-I wouldn't say a word. Of course."

"Okay," Tony nodded nervously. "Just, that would really ruin things. Especially at work, but probably at home too…we haven't exactly talked much about...shit, just don't say anything."

"Yeah, sure…listen, Tony, is Gibbs mad at me? I mean, obviously yeah, but how mad? He saw me, right?"

Tony blushed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively in typical oversexed DiNozzo fashion. "Yeah, but, um, your not the one he's mad at for running out of the room. Gotta go back and um…you know what? You want to find out what I have to go back for, you just pick your way back in, McVoyeur"

Alone on the stairs, Tim vowed never to pick a lock quickly _or _quietly ever again.

**Yeah, I suck at updating. Tell me something I don't know…like how much you enjoyed reading it!?!?**


	4. Chapter 4

Challenge word #4: stormy

Leon Vance jumped slightly at the thunder outside. The entirety of his office lit up when the next round of lightening came. Leon felt a twinge in his heart at the thought of his little girls, at home made nervous by the thunder. God, he wanted to be home. His wife was understanding to a point, but regardless of how much work mattered there were some days when home was the only thing he wanted.

Finalizing a copy of a letter to the NCIS office in Souda Bay in Greece, Leon pushed his chair back and stood. Another crack of lightening. He needed to get home, get in bed, and get rid of all the hectic shit at work. Which most often came down to Special Agent Gibbs.

It wasn't that Gibbs was a bad agent, no. In fact he was a damn good one. And he knew it, so when he took 'artistic liberties' in the field and it worked—like he knew it would—there was very little room for argument. It didn't help he had a band of cohorts who enjoyed helping with illegal side projects. Officer David was always up for an unconventional method, although Leon had to admit Agent McGee probably agreed out of fear. And DiNozzo, well, that man was so obsessed with Gibbs he'd do just about anything to make him happy.

That was an odd working relationship if Leon had ever seen one. There was clearly an element of a father/son relationship that frankly made him unhappy—that level of concern and emotional attachment to a coworker would lead to failed prioritization in the field. But Tony was such a devout follower, beyond familial attachment. Since becoming Director, and thus forced into a kind of babysitting role for the Gibbs major response team, Leon had watched more than once how DiNizzo's eyes would just trail after his boss all day. He couldn't seem to help himself from staring at the man and the more Leon paid attention the more obvious it became.

Leon rubbed a hand over his eyes as he grabbed the travel umbrella and overcoat hanging in the corner. He made his way downstairs and stopped for a moment by DiNozzo's desk. He didn't know why, he shouldn't spy on employees, he trusted DiNozzo. He was a damn good agent—actually, that right there was a reason to search his property.

Why would such a talented agent turn down promotion after promotion and when serving as agent afloat make every effort to be demoted to second-in-command at the main base? There had to be a dangerous and generally worrying reason for that kind of occupationally destructive behavior.

Pulling open drawers at random, Leon groaned at the sheer number of porn magazines. Really, could DiNozzo not keep sex off his mind _ever_? Jesus, he gave a bad reputation to men everywhere. There was a change of clothes, some basic tools for hygiene, including what appeared to be the makings of a hangover remedy.

Opening the drawer on the bottom right, Leon wasn't shocked to find all of the commendations for Gibbs stacked neatly inside. He knew Gibbs hated recognition and he knew DiNozzo adored being Gibbs's second and watching his back. DiNozzo would much rather represent Gibbs than receive the award himself. For all the showy attitude, Leon had yet to see DiNozzo acknowledge his own skills properly. Leon squatted down to pull out the awards, just to count them because he wanted to know how long DiNozzo had been picking up for his boss.

At the very bottom of the desk, Leon found an envelope. Pulling it out because it was on NCIS property and therefore within his right to look at it, Leon pulled the two pieces of paper out of the envelope.

The first was a quickly scrawled note on a piece from a yellow legal pad. Leon struggled to read it, but came up with: _Drinks after work. Take your own car. Nellie's. _

Leon ignored his gut reaction to the last word—because really, it wasn't likely that the Nellie's in the note was the same discrete, off-the-beaten-path gay sports bar his wife's brother frequented. That didn't fit with DiNozzo at all.

The second note was in the same scrawl: _"If you're so damn sick, go home! I don't care how much you wanted to see me; I will be home anyway to take care of your fever!"_

Leon just stared at the note. DiNozzo was living with someone, someone who was going to come home and take care of him when he was out with a bad cold with bronchitis two months back—and they were always bad, what with the plague background. Someone who probably worked in the office, since DiNozzo kept the notes here it was easy to connect to the idea he'd gotten them while here. Someone whose handwriting looked a lot like the ridiculous chicken scrawl that—no. Definitely not, not possible.

Leon headed over to Gibbs's desk and frantically pushed through papers until he found a decent sample to compare for handwriting similarities. Holy shit. In the eerie light of the lightening outside, Leon could see the writing matched Gibbs's perfectly.

He turned to Gibbs's drawers and pulled through them, but didn't find anything until he opened the top drawer. It was filled with office supplies like everyone else are but the paranoia and Colombo-type detective work had Leon combing through it all. On a sticky note attached to the bottom of a stack of postage stamp sheets, Leon hit an unwanted jackpot.

_Stop wearing that shirt, it distracts me._

And as Leon got behind the wheel of his car after putting everything back exactly the way he found it, he avoided thinking about having read gay love letters or the implications for military work or how to handle looking at DiNozzo and his idolization without twitching ever again. But mostly he tried to convince himself that, as handy as it was, this kind of information shouldn't be used to one-up Gibbs in one of their many procedural debates. Although the look on his face would be priceless.

**1) I actually did some research. Nellie's is a legitimate gay sports bar in D.C. **

**2) Very challenging to be Vance. Any Advice? Thoughts? Praise? (Hint: Pick the last one!!!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Point of Clarification****: A beta from yaoiwish made the notes between Tony and Gibbs last chapter more realistic and less awkward. Thank her, read her stuff. **

5) sparkly

Abby tried not to laugh. It wasn't funny, because there was still a victim and there was a crime and Tony had a nasty run-in with a suspect. It wasn't funny. But Tony getting puked on by some hung-over playboy dishonorably discharged Marine? Who could miss the irony of that? Now Abby knew of course that Tony and his façade was just that—an act. But the fact remained he was standing in her lab on an oversized sheet of paper, expected to remove all of his clothes as evidence and be forced to pull out his backup suit.

"This isn't necessary, you know. If anyone wanted to see me naked, they could have just asked." Tony grumbled.

Abby, of course, knew as well as he did that it was necessary. The suspect had fought back when Tony had gone to question him, and considering the murder was last night, anything in the scuffle that landed on Tony—yes, including the vomit—could be evidence of the crime, his alibi, and a whole load of things Abby refrained from reminding Tony about.

"Come on, Tony…I won't look. Promise. Unless, you know, you want me to or something." Abby grinned at the scowl Tony sent her way. The office flirting was fun but today was clearly not his happiest.

"I'm going, I'm going…" Grumbling to himself, Tony managed to get shoes and socks off along with the suit coat. He paused as a chill ran through him. "Could you at least do something about the temperature in here? I mean, I know it is unbelievably hot outside for April but that doesn't mean you need to counteract it so strongly here."

"Cranky…" Abby clicked her tongue disapprovingly at him. She turned to her music and wickedly brought on Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On". She turned back to Tony and grinned. "This gonna warm you up, Anthony?"

"Screw you…"

"Oh, you wish." Abby bounced a little and turned back to Major Mass Spec who was ready with some results. She figured Tony needed a decent amount of privacy, even though he was only stripping to the boxers.

"Alright, got the hospital gown thing?" Tony would put that on, take off the boxers and make his way to the shower—which, Abby imagined, he'd gladly spend the whole day using to clean himself of Suspect Harper and his bodily oozes.

But when Abby turned back with the flimsy gown, she stopped functioning for a full minute. "Oh my God…Tony."

"What?"

"Those boxers." Abby pointed numbly, as if Tony wouldn't be aware of which boxers she was talking about.

"Oh, you like? Well, you get them for evidence in a minute."

"I bought those."

"You have a pair? Great, we're twins. Now, Abs, come on. I need the robe…please?"

"No, Tony…" Abby's mind was whirling. _How was that…it couldn't mean…_ "I bought those boxers. As in, the pair you are currently wearing."

Tony glanced down, reddening slightly. "Nah, don't think so Abs…"

"I bought them for Gibbs."

"Great, so Gibbs and I are twins, I'll be sure to let him know. Gown-smock thing, please?"

"I bought them for him two Christmases ago. I remember buying them online." Abby gestured again and looked over the pair. She remembered them. Moss green, the softest jersey cotton, with little tiny chocolate-colored outlines of fishing boats. In the right light the boats even sparkled, which was Abby's favorite part. That was 100% for Gibbs, no one else needed boxers with sparkly boats. She'd done that for him as a joke, a sort of way to celebrate the lull in ladies with the notion that he could dress to impress and be himself. Boat plus a little fancy sparkle. And now Tony was wearing those same boxers.

"Well, I'm sure I just picked them up at a store, Abs." He was getting redder, stepping from one foot to the other.

"No…you are wearing Gibbs's boxers. Why?"

"They aren't, Abs…"

Abby got a sudden thought. "Alright, fine. Just hand them over." She tossed him the robe and crossed her arms, knowing the smirk would make him suspicious.

Catching the gown, Tony frowned. "Why?"

"Because they are evidence, Tony!" Abby gave a sigh. "Both of a potential murder and perjury."

"What? Abs, Harper wasn't under oath when he talked to me, plus I hadn't Mirandized him—"

"No, _your _perjury. You lying to me." Abs leaned back against the counter and waited as Tony slipped the gown on and fastened the little string ties.

"What? When did I lie?" Tony hesitantly was fingering the waistband of the boxers.

"I wrote 'Gibbsy' on the tag. That's my proof those are Gibbs and that you lied to me."

Tony gave one of his fake, casual laughs. "Okay, Abby, you are completely paranoid."

"Fine, then hand them over."

"What? No, I'm not encouraging this." Tony's hands now gripped the elastic waist, as if that would stop the whole process.

"Are you disrupting the chain of evidence, Special Agent DiNozzo?!?!" Abby crossed her arms and mocked accusingly.

"Abby, come on…" Tony looked down, looked to the side—anywhere but at Abby. And that was worrying.

"Tony…what "come on"? Just give over the evidence."

Biting his lip, Tony shoved the boxers down, the glimmer of the boat print in the florescent light was actually pretty, Abby noted. It had definitely been a good buy. Grabbing them, Abby immediately looked at the tag—then her eyes shot to Tony.

"Abs…don't, don't say it…" Tony shook his head warningly.

"Why are you wearing Gibbs's underwear?"

"Because…I, I stayed at his place a couple months back…my water was shut off. Must have mixed the laundry…" Tony trailed off, as if waiting for Abby's perversions to interpret the situation. And she didn't disappoint.

"Tony… you put this pair of boxers on this morning, right?"

"Yes."

"At Gibbs's house. Didn't you?"

"No, Abby…yeah."

"After spending the night with him. Like, in a Brokeback Mountain 'don't ask, don't tell' kind of way."

"Jesus…yes, Abby."

"Like you've been doing for the past…"

"5 months. At least, that's how long I've been living there fulltime."

"Oh my God…"

"Abby, I know it makes me look like a girl or something and I know this might be bad for work, but you haven't noticed any change so that means we are doing a good job of—"

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about your hot gay sex life."

Tony froze, but slowly smiled as he realized Abby wasn't upset, not really. _Why he was so afraid, so paranoid of her response, some abstract and unrealistic judgement…_Abby shook her head.

"Well, listen mister: you both better enjoy rationing all of Gibbs's boxers because I'm sure as hell not buying either of you any new pairs. I don't reward people who keep juicy secrets from me. Well, that and I think you two sharing your 'delicates' is really hot."

**A/N: Last in the series, hope you enjoyed.**

**I'll be looking for challenges over the holidays, something like this style. I am willing to exchange challenges. So any takers, PM me. Also, REVIEW.**


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